Back at Home
by Marigold.Flowers
Summary: We all know know what happened in the Land of the Dead and we know how things were one year later, but we really don't know what happened in between that time. What happened when Coco died? How did the truth about Ernesto come out? How did Miguel deal with everyday life after almost dying? This story will try to answer those questions as best as I can. I hope you like it.
1. chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

 **The first night**

* * *

Miguel had trouble sleeping the night of the third of November. What would you expect after having lived through what he had the night before? Yes, he had had lots of fun in the Land of the Dead, singing with Papá Hector, and was glad to have met Mamá Imelda and the rest of his family. Of course he was proud for helping Mamá Coco remember her dad and he couldn't be happier after having discovered a whole new world and after having learned the true value of family.

But even all that good didn't take away some other things like, I don't know... discovering that Miguel's hero, the person he most looked up to, Ernesto de la Cruz, had murdered his great grand father and taken all the credit for his work? Or maybe the fact that he had been seconds away from dying twice, one of those times by his so called hero? Being dropped from a high building isn't exactly the most recommended experience for a twelve year old, or for anyone in any case. Neither is slowly turning into a skeleton, knowing that once the transformation is complete you won't be able to return to your home or even your actual life for that matter.

No, Miguel could not sleep that night. He may have been extremely tired after having been running around for two days and one night but every time he closed his eyes he saw something that made him jump up right on his bed and hold his head in frustration. Sometimes it was Ernesto's face sneering and throwing him off a building and him falling endlessly, never reaching an end. Others it was Hector singing a lullaby and fading away and knowing that he wouldn't return. Once he imagined himself trying to cross the Marigold Bridge back towards the land of the living, just to find that it was as if he was trying to walk through honey... useless.

Miguel gave up on sleeping after that last one. He decided that he didn't want to figure out what those dreams meant, not even think about them.

He got out of bed without making a single noise as to not wake anyone up. He went out of his room and decided to pay a visit to the still standing ofrenda. After all the commotion with Mamá Coco, his abuelita never had the time to take it down. When he arrived he saw Dante and a cat sleeping just outside the entrance to the room where the ofrenda stood. With great care he passed them and went inside. He sat down on the floor, not really caring about how cold it was, and stared at the fotos of his relatives. He memorised their every feature and compared them to the skeletical version of them he had met. Without realising it, he started humming and mumbling bits and pieces of all his favourite songs, ending up just singing recuérdame in a never-ending loop.

He sat there in a trance. He didn't realise when Dante and the cat had come in and had sat by his side. Nor he had realised when tears had started falling from his eyes. Nor how the hours had passed and the sun had come up. He didn't realise any of those things and never broke out of his trance. Not even when a very surprised abuelita had come into the room to take down the ofrenda, first thing in the morning.

Elena stayed there staring at her grandson and wondered what on earth could have happened last night to leave him in such state. She didn't dare to approach him, at least not until his mom or dad had come to see him. So she silently stood there, hearing the beautiful melody he sung over and over again.

As more family members came to say their good mornings to Elena, she sushed them and pointed to the seated figure of Miguel. No one moved or made a sound. Soon, there was a crowd at the entrance of the room.

At last, it was Miguel's mother who approached him, tapped him on his shoulder and asked, "Are you alright mijo?"

Miguel blinked a few times and looked up. His mother's eyes widened at the sight of Miguel's eyes, which were red and still wet from tears. But what surprised her the most was when he lounged forward and embraced her in a tight hug.

"I've never been better," he answered, before his mom returned his hug. "Gracias, mamá, por estar siempre ahí por mí."

"De-denada Miguel" she answered back uncertainly, but sweetly nevertheless.

All too soon, he broke the hug. He went up to his dad and said, "Gracias, papá, por ayudarme a ser el mejor Rivera que puedo ser."

His dad simply smiled as Miguel turned around to his abuelita.

"Gracias, abuelita, por quererme tanto." He kissed her cheek and took some steps back to see his whole family, with the exception of Mamá Coco who was still sleeping.

He chucked at their dumbfounded expressions.

"Gracias a todos por ser mi familia."

He crouched down to take hold of a single marigold petal, and held it carefully.

"Nunca olvidemos la familia."

With that last frase he let go of the petal and let go of his fears. He had been so scared and traumatised after the events of el Día de Muertos, but now, after a night of meditation, he had come to the realisation that everything would be alright as long as he had his family. And he knew that his family, dead or alive, would always be there for him no matter what.

The petal seemed to shimmer as it fell to the floor.

* * *

Later that day, Miguel went to visit Mamá Coco in her room.

They chatted for a while. They looked at her album. They sang some songs.

His abuelita called him for dinner.

He stood up, gave her a peck on her cheek and said, "Gracias Mamá Coco, por escuchar."

"De nada, Miguel"

She smiled. He smiled too, and then rushed out of the room.

* * *

Later, that night, Miguel had no trouble sleeping.

* * *

 **Translations** (translated as best as I can)

 **Gracias, mamá, por estar siempre ahí por mí** ~ Thanks, mom, for always being there for me.

 **Denada** ~ You're welcome

 **Gracias, papá, por ayudarme a ser el mejor Rivera que puedo ser** ~ Thanks, dad, for helping me be the best Rivera I can be.

 **Gracias, abuelita, por quererme tanto** ~ Thanks, grandma, for loving me so much.

 **Gracias a todos por ser mi familia** ~ Thanks everyone for being my family

 **Nunca olvidemos la familia** ~ let's never forget family

 **Gracias Mamá Coco, por escuchar** ~ thanks Mamá Coco, for listening

* * *

 **A/N**

 **Hiiiiiii** **I hope you have enjoyed this first chapter even if I had no idea of what I was doing. I'm thinking about making this story about little things that happen between Miguel's return from the Land of the Dead and that _one year later_ and if things go well then possibly more. I'll possibly cover things like Mamá Coco's death and Socorro's birth, some school stuff and Miguel singing in the Plaza. Possibly the reveal of Hector's story to the world. If you are reading this and you have ideas that you want me to write, please comment and I'll see if I add them on! That is if anyone's reading this. I'm open to all kind of critics and suggestions.**

 **Someday I'll update**

 **Byeeeee**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi everyone! I'm back with a new chapter.** **Thanks to everyone who reviewed, followed or liked this story, It really makes my day.** **Now on to the story!**

* * *

 **Chapter 2**

 **A visit to the Plaza**

 **Part 1**

* * *

Luisa had to admit it to herself, she was worried for her son. Two days had passed since the Day of the Dead, two days in which the change Miguel had gone through was very hard not to notice.

That little act the first night back had been a little worrying. She had never seen her son like that but she supposed that it had been the aftereffects of that night he had spent away from home, _Dios sabe donde_. She supposed it would be over after a good night's sleep. But she was wrong, very wrong.

As soon as he woke up that Saturday morning, he had gone to the workshop where he gave a hug to every single member of the family. Even his cousin Rosa, who he almost never gave hugs to. He looked genuinely happy. He kept humming a happy song and had this little smile plastered on his face. Luisa decided that asking what was going on wouldn't really hurt.

"Oye Miguel, te veo hoy muy contento. What's going on?" She asked.

"Nada, nada," he answered, but Luisa could swear that she had heard him say afterwards in a small whisper, "just happy to be alive."

Okay. _Now_ she was worried. But as worried as she was, she wouldn't be able to help him right now, at least in front of their whole family. She decided she would have to talk to him privately at some point, but not now.

Well, if her Miguelito was happy then she would have to be happy too. And she had some news that would probably excite him a lot.

Carefully, she stood up and cleared her voice. Soon everyone stopped what they were doing and payed attention to her words.

"We haven't really spoken about this yet but I guess we will have to at some point, so I'll just do it now. I think we can all agree that the ban on music has been lifted, but I still want to know if anyone's against this decision. Someone?"

She looked around the room and noticed that Miguel was doing the same. After some tense seconds of waiting, Miguel's smile seem to widen. So did Luisa's.

The whole family looked expectantly at Elena to see what she had to say. She sighed and admitted defeatedly, "I guess that's a yes for music then."

The Rivera family clapped and Miguel gave everyone another round of hugs.

"Sabes Miguel," Luisa said, "I've heard that this afternoon there's going to be a little musical contest at the Plaza del Mariachi and I was wondering if, to celebrate this occasion, you would like to participate. Also because we didn't give you a chance to participate in one on the Day of the Dead."

Miguel's eyes seem to shine at this proposal.

Luisa continued, "All your family will be there mijo, we want to be there for you ib your first public presentation! Verdad que sí?"

Many family members assented.

His prima Rosa smirked and said tauntingly,"But don't worry if you get to nervous or if you are too shy, we won't judge you for not wanting to take part in it."

Miguel crossed his arms and started speaking. "You would be sursurprised, no es la primera vez que—"

He stopped abruptly, all the light that his eyes once held suddenly gone. He stared blankly into nothingness lost in thought.

"Miguel?" Rosa asked.

"Miguel estás ahí?"she tried again.

Rosa approached Miguel and waved her hand in front of his face. Still nothing.

Meanwhile, Miguel's mind was racing with realisation. Of course his family had no idea he had already sung in a contest! They had no idea of what had happened to Miguel that night. _¿Qué te esperabas, Miguel?_ He told himself. They didn't know anything! But what if he told them... _No, no, no, Miguel. ¡Te tomarán por loco!_ No one would believe him.

"Miguel!" Rosa gave slapped his head. It didn't really hurt but it did get him out of his stupor.

"What... Oh yeah... Um... I'd love to participate." he force a smile.

"Great!" said Luisa, very conscious that she would have to seriously talk to her son later. "Most of Santa Cecilia will be there so I think you should get ready."

"I guess I should." Miguel turned around and made his way outside, but lingered for a second on the door. "The whole town will be there?" he questioned.

"I believe it will, mijo," his mother answered. "Why? Does it bother you? You don't have to do it..."

"Actually mamá," Miguel said, a plan forming in his head, "it's perfect."

With that said, Miguel turned around and sprinted to Mamá Coco's room. If everything went as planned, everyone in Santa Cecilia would soon know who their real hero was, Héctor Rivera.

* * *

 **Translations:**

 **Oye Miguel, te veo hoy muy contento -** Hey Miguel, you look very happy today

 **Nada, nada -** nothing, nothing

 **Sabes Miguel** \- you know what Miguel

 **Verdad que sí?** \- Right?

 **Miguel estás ahí?** \- Are you there Miguel?

 **¿Qué te esperabas, Miguel?** \- What were you expecting, Miguel?

 **¡Te tomarán por loco!** \- they will think you are crazy!

* * *

 **So! That's part one of _a Visit to the Plaza_! I hope you are enjoying it and I hope to be able to update soon. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi.**

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

 **A visit to the Plaza**

 **Part 2**

* * *

To the eyes of the young Rivera, the Plaza had never looked brighter at night. In Santa Cecilia, music contests were taken very seriously. The Plaza was always filled with lights and the best of decorations, and of course, this time was no exception. This time however, was the first time that Miguel was going to compete, so of course it looked even better than usual (which unfortunately for Miguel, was merely glimpses and glances of the Plaza whenever he had a chance to escape from his chores and his ever-watching abuelita). Technically it wasn't his first contest, but Miguel would count it as so, since it would be the first time he performed in front of a public which wasn't... you know, dead.

He tried to act naturally when signing up for the show but his wide smile gave him away.

"I would like to participate in the contest," he told the young woman who carried the list of participants, and remembering his manners he added, "¿por favor?"

The lady chuckled and checked her list. "Hmmm... I guess we have just enough time at the end for just one more performance."

"Is that okay with you?" She asked.

Miguel nodded fervently, "¡Por supuesto!"

She smiled warmly. "Alright, just one more thing missing... what will be your stage name?"

Miguel considered this for a second. There was literally no way that he would go as _De la crucito_. It just wasn't possible. He would have to think about it later but for now, _Miguel Rivera_ would have to suffice.

"Oh, I think I'll just go by my name for now, Miguel Rivera" He answered.

She raised her eyebrows. "Rivera? As in la familia Rivera, who hates music and everything to do with it?"

"Sí" he simply replied.

"Oh well, buena suerte niño. We will call you five minutes before it's your turn so be reeady." She gave him a friendly tap on the head and went away to attend to other matters.

Miguel searched around the Plaza and found his entire family sat down waiting for the show to begin. His mother spotted him looking and gave a little wave accompanied by a smile. Miguel waved back and gave her a thumbs up, signalling that everything was alright.

Looking around he noticed many people sending weird looks at his family. He shouldn't have been surprised, after all, his family wasn't famous just for making the best shoes of Santa Cecilia. He even spotted a certain mariachi dressed in blue who shot fearful glances at his abuelita. Miguel supposed that had not gotten over her and her fear inducing chancla. Miguel laughed to himself and then sighed. Hopefully the days in which his abuelita went chasing off poor mariachis would soon be over.

* * *

The lights of the plaza soon dimmed down and the presenter stood on the stage, microphone ready on hand, a single light beam pointing at her.

Miguel could see her mouth moving but his mind wouldn't process the sounds coming through his ears. He was too concentrated thinking about his plan, going through it over and over again, worrying about all that could go wrong but still remembering everything good that could—no, _would_ — come out of it.

He looked again at his family. They were all watching the stage intently, taking everything in. Some looked more excited than others, some seemed a bit apprehensive; but still, as the show started and people began singing and playing instruments, they stayed at their places and never looked away. It looked like they were rather enjoying it. Even when a singer went a bit off note, or when a musician made a bit of an obvious mistake, they still clapped and cheered along with the rest of the crowd. This eased some of Miguel's worries.

He took a deep breath. _Relájate Miguel_ , he scolded himself, _todo saldrá bien_.

He sat down and started playing softly on his guitar. Well, not _his_ guitar since he hadn't had time to buy one and the one he had made had been destroyed by his abuelita in a desperate attempt to make him forget music. No, he was not using his guitar, but his great great grandfather's. Of course, no body knew it was Héctor's, not Ernesto's, but Miguel hadn't really thought about that. Miguel, who was now singing some tune to warm up his voice, hadn't really thought about the fact that half of Santa Cecilia would know by now that their greatest idol's guitar was missing from De la Cruz's mausoleum. But what did you expect from a twelve year old?

Songs came and went. Some were original compositions, others weren't. Many were just variations of De la Cruz's work, well, technically Héctor's but no one knew that yet. More than once, the song _Recuérdame_ showed up, which was _frustrating_ for Miguel, to put it lightly. It bothered him how many people would sing it, thinking it was directed to some girlfriend or lover, not knowing the real story behind him. It took all of his self control not to go upstage and stop some of said performances. More than once, he caught some of the members of his family looking enquiringly at him. They had been present when Miguel had sang to Mamá Coco and they were now all wondering why on Earth were there other people singing the exact same song which Coco's father used to sing to her. Miguel just shrugged in return, wanting his turn to come so they could finally understand.

To Miguel's eyes, it was taking forever. Yes, he liked most songs, and yes, the show was entertaining, but it was way past his usual curfew and being sat down against a wall and with the dim lights lighting the zone of the plaza where he was, he couldn't help but feel very sleepy eyed.

Only a second had passed for Miguel when he was jerked into consciousness by someone shaking his shoulder. In less than a second, he was up on his feet and said, "¡no dejaré que te olviden!". This earned a few weird looks from the people around him but the woman who had woken him up had no time for the child's nonsense.

"Gracias a Dios que te encontré a tiempo niño." She said some other things but Miguel was vaguely aware of her words, he was still sleepy and a bit in a daze. He did catch, however, her last few words: "Two more acts and you're up! Get ready kid." Just as she finished saying those words, Miguel felt like he had just jumped into a pool of freezing water because the next thing he knew, he was very awake and very, _very_ conscious of his surroundings.

He yelped in surprise as he realised that his turn was coming. He got his guitar and ran towards the stage. An opera singer was just finishing her act. Next was a Mariachi band and next (and last) would be Miguel.

He started breathing heavily. He didn't want to admit it to himself but he _was_ nervous. He cluched his guitar with both hands.

After a few minutes — although to Miguel it felt like an eternity — it was finally his turn. He was vaguely aware of the presenter calling him up and of some hands pushing him onstage. He wasn't aware of the growing murmurs going through the crowd as they recognised Miguel's guitar.

No, Miguel was not aware of any of that, just of the many expectant eyes that were watching him.

So he closed his eyes. He closed his eyes and thought about his papá Hector; the reason he was doing this; the reason he would finally be able to sing; the reason why Miguel was actually here today.

He closed his eyes and let out a cry, deep from his soul, that resounded throughout the whole Plaza and made every murmuring voice stop in shock. He received a few claps and whistles for his courage and downright craziness.

Then, he started to play.

* * *

 **Translations:**

 **¿por favor? —** please?

 **¡Por supuesto! —** of course!

 **Relájate Miguelrelax Miguel**

 _ **todo saldrá bien**_. — everything will turn out alright

 **¡no dejaré que te olviden!** — I won't let them forget you!

 **Gracias a Dios que te encontré a tiempo niño** — Thank God I found you on time kid.

* * *

 **A/N**

 **I AM BACK with the last update of 2017! I hope you are enjoying the storry so far and sorry (not sorry) for the little cliffhanger in this chapter. If this story continues you will find out that it will not be the last cliffhanger *insert evil laugh* . Also, you may find that I'm terrible at keeping consistent updates so don't even think about asking about them.**

 **So yep, _feliz año nuevo!_ I wonder if someone will read this chapter in the few hours that are left in 2017. If so, leave a comment! I am genuinely curious.**

 **See you next year!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello! I'm alive! Surprising, right? Oh well, here is the final chapter to _a Visit to the Plaza._**

 **I just want to add a quick but important note saying that the songs in this fic will be in Spanish. I like the English version of songs but not as much as the Spanish ones. Besides, I only know the lyrics to the Spanish version and _yes,_ I could search for the lyrics on the internet but I believe that Miguel would sing in Spanish and not in English since he is, after all, in Mexico. However, dear reader, if you don't like or understand the Spanish version, you can always imagine that Miguel is singing in English. The language of the songs will not affect the story at all. **

**So, that's that! Please enjoy!**

 _El cielo no es azul_

 _ay mi amor_

 _ay mi amor_

Miguel sang, his voice filling the air, captivating the public.

 _Es rojo dices tú_

 _Ay mi amor_

 _Ay mi amor_

The silence in the crowd didn't last very long.

 _Ves todo al revés_

 _Ay mi amor_

 _Ay mi amor_

Soon, everyone was cheering, clapping and dancing to the rhythm of the song.

 _¡Creo que piensas con los pies!_

 _Ay mi amor_

 _Ay mi amor_

The boy danced around on the stage, jumping and twirling, all whilst not missing a single note on his guitar. People would later agree that he had looked _un poco loco_. But wasn't that the point?

 _Tu me traes un poco loco,_

 _Un poquititito loco_

 _Estoy adivinando_

 _Que quieres y pa cuando_

People would later agree that the boy had been born to play that guitar.

 _Y así estoy celebrando_

 _Que me vuelvo_

 _Un poco locoooo_

Miguel had never felt more alive. Yes, he did miss Hector's additions but he made it work alright by himself. He let out everything he had. By the time the song was ending, it seemed like the Plaza had gained a new, brighter colour. It was only too bad it had to end.

Once Miguel sang the last verse and played the last note, everyone had almost forgotten about the kid's guitar. They kept cheering: "O _tra! Otra!",_ asking for more. Miguel would have been all too happy to comply, if only he didn't have something else, something important, to do.

 _Es hora_ , Miguel told himself.

He walked forward, confidence showing off on his every step, until he stood in front of the microphone.

"Hola a todos," he started, and received a few _holas_ back, "I hope you have enjoyed my song." At this people cheered and whistled. "You have probably heard of it before, it's called _un poco loco_." More cheers in response. "And it was wrote by my great great grandfather..." at this people started whispering and murmuring, was it possible that this boy was Ernesto's great great grandson? Probably yes, it wasn't so far fetched. Not real— "... Hector Rivera" Miguel finished. The whole Plaza stood still in the stunned silence. The only thing going around everyone's mind was, _wait what?_ They didn't understand. Ernesto had written that song, right? In fact, he had written all his songs! Why would this twelve year old say otherwise?

"Oye niño! Ernesto de la Cruz wrote that song!" A random mariachi voiced most of the spectators' thoughts. Many murmured in agreement.

Then a woman spoke up. "How do you even know this?" Everyone started talking louder and louder.

"No sabes de lo que hablas, niño!" "Liar!" "Who are you to take Ernesto's credit away?" "Did you steal that guitar from Ernesto's mausoleum?" "You know nothing about Ernesto!" "It's not like you've met him!" "You're just a child, you know nothing!"

Miguel took a step back in confusion and fear. He hadn't expected this outcome. He had many other things planned to say but he hadn't even reached the part about Hector and Ernesto's friendship or Hector's death. He hadn't even passed the introduction of his little speech. He had no idea what to do. He looked around in desperation and to his demise, found that his father and abuelita were coming his way. _Think, think, think_. Miguel scolded himself for having been so unprepared and for not having predicted this reaction from the crowd. He was smarter than this. He should've known that adults would not listen to a kid. They would need some kind of — _some kind of what, Miguel? Some kind of proof? Wait... that's it!_

Miguel placed his hands around the microphone, gripping it tightly as if his life depended on it. He made a sudden movement and the microphone screeched, making everyone stop on their tracks and cover their ears in annoyance.

"You want to know how I know what I know. That doesn't really matter. The only thing that matters is that I know that what I say is true, I know it with my heart and soul. I also know that you don't want to believe me. After all, Ernesto's is this town's idol. Believe me when I say that just a few days ago, he was my idol too. I learned to play the guitar just by watching videos of him playing. I know the lyrics to all his songs by heart. I had created this shrine in his honour in a secret room where I would go to practice almost every day. He is the reason I started liking music.

"However, a few days ago, I found something, something hidden deep in my family history, that at first broke my heart. I didn't want to accept what I had learned. I didn't want to accept that Ernesto de la Cruz was a liar. But then, there is actual proof that he didn't write his songs. And if anyone is interested in seeing them..." Miguel paused for a second and looked at his mother, who was sitting looking worried at her son. _Lo siento mamá_ , he said in his head. He was so going to get in trouble for this, "... then I invite you to come to my family's workshop, where I will show you the proof to my words."

He looked again at his mother. He did not hear her words but he could almost feel them. _¿Pero qué has hecho, mijo? ¿What have you done?_

The crown was torn apart between wanting to ignore the child and accepting the possibility that his words were true. His abuelita was nearing the stage. Miguel had to settle this in a way that no one would forget. Everyone was looking at him expectantly and he knew that if he was to say something, he was going to have to make that something count.

"Hector Rivera wrote Ernesto's songs. I know it's true. _I would bet my life on it_."

Again the crowd erupted in shouting, talking and murmuring. His abuelita and father got up on stage. She took him by the ear and carried him away. His father took the mic and said, "the show is over."

He then left the stage and went to where his family awaited him. Miguel's father helped his wife stand up. He then went to Miguel and placed a firm hand on his shoulder and gave him a stern look. Miguel cringed but said nothing.

Many eyes lingered on the Riveras as they walked away from the Plaza, all together as a family that definitely had some very serious matters to discuss once they reached their home.

 **Translations**

 **Es hora** ~ It's time

 **No sabes de lo que hablas, niño!** ~ you don't know what you're talking about, kid

 **Lo siento mamá** ~ I'm sorry mum

 **A/N**

 **Welp. Miguel's in trouble. How will things turn out for him, I wonder...**

 **I'll update as soon as I can but I can't promise anything, since school is leaving me waaaay too much homework.**

 **See you next chapter! Please keep leaving reviews! They usually make my day!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Heeeyyyy! Guess what? It's my birthday! (Actually now that I finish writing this, it was 3 days ago but who cares) Yay! I'm fifteen. I feel strangely old. I don't feel like I'm fifteen. I'm weird. Anyways... here's an all new chapter to _Back at Home_! I'm seriously so happy for all the likes and follows this story has (I believe this story is the second most followed out of all the Coco fics, so thanks for that!) , as well as for all your wonderful and helpful reviews! Now to the story...**

 **Chapter 5**

 **The Truth? (Part 1)**

The streets seemed oddly silent and tense as the Rivera family walked home after their little visit to the Plaza. Any other person would have found the silence to be calm and comforting. Any other person would have looked up at the starred sky and at the shining full moon and they would have felt at peace. Miguel Rivera, however, felt the stars and moon staring accusingly at him. The silence to him was getting rather eerie and, added to the sudden gushes of chilly wind, was starting to creep him out.

Miguel had to admit that he felt guilty. For what? He didn't really know. He knew that he had done what he had to do to get the truth (at least most of it) out to the world. He knew he had done the right thing for his Papá Hector. He knew that he wouldn't change a single word of the things that he had said that night. Yet, why did Miguel feel like he had just done something terribly wrong? Why did he feel so guilty? Why wasn't anyone saying anything as his family took him home? Nothing came to his mind. Nothing but this unbearable anxieties that was building up inside him, impatiently waiting to burst out. He needed answers. Only that would stop that feeling that was burning his insides each and every second that passed.

More than once he opened his mouth to ask a question that his mind had formulated, but stopped abruptly as he realised that not only a second had passed and his mind had already dicarded that question as absurd or unnecessary. He wanted to ask so many things but every time looked at a member of his family something stopped him from wanting to ask anything. He didn't want to... annoy them, so to speak. He looked at their faces and saw disappointment. They were not mad or angry at the mexican boy, just disappointed, and he wanted to know why.

In the end he decided that he would wait for the safety and comfort his home brought to him. He decided that he would let them speak first, ask him questions, and then ask them some of his own.

Santa Cecilia was a relatively small town and the Plaza wasn't really far away from the Rivera's home, but the trip from one place to another was taking forever in the eyes of the young musician, so he sped up his pace, his family's behaviour starting to really get on his nerves.

* * *

"Miguel," his father's voice one of authority, "tenemos que hablar."

 _There's no getting out of this one_ , Miguel thought.

"Sí papá?" Miguel asked, trying to hide his nervousness behind a facade of innocence, his look on his eyes however, giving him away.

"I want you to tell us why you did what you did tonight and I want you to tell us why you thought it wasn't a good idea to tell your family about your... _plans_ before them actually taking place. Tell us the truth, Miguel."

 _So that was it_ , Miguel thought. He realised that they just wanted to know why he hadn't told them about his plan. He almost laghed in relief, almost. At least there wasn't a need for lying... yet.

They were seated around the table at the Rivera's workshop, the whole, family impatient to hear Migel's explanation.

He took a deep breath, preparing to talk, structuring his reply, thinking about every word. He concluded that answering wouldn't be as easy as he had firstly thought.

"The truth is that I just wanted to tell the truth to the world about De La Cruz. That man is—" he shook his head "—was a liar and a theif and a downright murderer who does whatever it takes to seize his _stupid_ moment, and he didn't and _still_ doesn't deserve the fame he has achieved because he has achieved it by lying and stealing what isn't his and by murdering an innocent man who just wanted to see his daughter again. And I didn't tell you guys about it because I was afraid that you wouldn't let me do it, that you wouldn't let me tell the world, and I couldn't let that happened because I promised. I promised him that I would save him and I promised myself that I wouldn't just do that, I would set things right like they should be. I promised my family, and family is the most important thing and should be put before anything else. I promised, I—" Miguel felt a gentle hand placed on his shoulder and stopped abruptly. He realised then that he had been shaking and that his eyes were moist with tears.

"Wait, a _murderer_?" He heard his cousin Rosa say, but did not answer. Instead, he looked up at his mother. They had a deep, unspoken exchange.

"Come here mijo," she said, her voice calm and soothing for her child, "let's talk."

They stood up and walked to Miguel's room, followed shortly after by Enrique, Miguel's father.

The rest of the Riveras were left behind, completely speechless. If they had been confused about Miguel's behaviour since the Día de Muertos, now they just had simply no clue about what was going on inside that boy's mind. They had never seen him so angry and frustrated before. It just didn't look right on the kind boy they had grown to love. And talking about a deceased murderer? Where had _that_ come from?

"Ay, ¿qué vamos a hacer con ese chiquillo?" Elena wondered out loud. The rest couldn't help but agree.

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 **translations**

 **tenemos que hablar ~** we need to talk

 **¿qué vamos a hacer con ese chiquillo?** ~ what are we going to do with this boy?

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 **A/N**

 **I admit this is not my best chapter up to date but I think next one will be much better. Thanks for reading!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Quick A/N**

 **Sorry for taking so long. Super quick recap: Miguel sang at the Plaza, uncovered some stuff about Ernesto to the world and even more stuff to his family. Now, Miguel is up for a chat with his parents about the events of a certain life-changing day. Will Miguel tell the truth? Will his parents believe him? Read to find out!**

Miguel sat on his unmade bed, breathing deeply, his eyes closed. He was afraid that if he opened them he would find the stern faces of his parents, terrified that he would find the disappointment that he'd seen a few days ago when he had announced that he wanted to be a musician. At least he thought it had been disappointment. So he kept his eyes closed, not really paying attention to his mother's soft words, afraid of their meaning. That was until he felt a small, warm and slightly calloused hand on his cheek.

He stared at his mother's dark chocolate eyes that seemed to melt away any kind of walls that Miguel tried to put up.

"—are worried Miguel" hearing his name, Miguel started focusing on his mother's voice. "Ever since Día de los Muertos you have been physically closer to the family than ever before but I have never seen you acting so distant at times. It's as if your body had returned from wherever you went that day but your heart and mind had stayed there."

"We didn't want to load you with questions on your return," his father took over, "you seemed so tired but so happy when Mamá Coco sang along to your song. We didn't want to break your moment. But after today... we need answers Miguel. How long have you been playing music? What else have you been hiding from us? Why did you say that de la Cruz was your great grandfather but days later accuse him of being a murderer? Where did you go after you ran away on Día de los Muertos? How did you know about that song?"

Miguel let out a short but bitter laugh, surprising both himself and his parents.

"Mamá, if I tell you, you'll probably think that I'm... _un poco loco_ , you know?" His answer was followed by a silent exchange between his parents, a soothing hand on his back making him somehow feel the tiniest of bits better.

"It's okay, Miguelito. No matter what you tell us, we'll still love you. Please, just tell us the truth, let us help you."

His father's words were something that he had wanted to hear but what he really needed...

"I'll believe whatever you tell us Miguel. And whatever you tell us, _te prometo, Miguel,_ it won't leave this room if you don't want it to."

Miguel looked up at his mother, knowing very well that when she promised something, there was nothing in the world that could make her break that promise. She nodded, encouragingly. His father patted his back softly.

"Well," he started, "I guess I should with the morning of _Día de los Muertos_..."

And so, Miguel began his tale.

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 **A/N this is very short for the amount of time passed since I last updated and I'm really sorry for that. I need to know if you guys want me to continue this story. I don't really know if I want to continue it. please comment if you want it to continue. Thanks!**


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